


The Room is Cold

by Telesilla



Series: Afterparty [5]
Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Asexual Character, M/M, Mention of alcohol, San Francisco Giants, and god so many elippses, mention of weed, post-wbc, relationship conversations, so it's disjointed, trying to figure out your complicated relationship while high af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 00:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10478424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: "How's it work?""How's what work?""This...you know, these things. Your parties."





	

"How's it work?" Tim takes a deep hit off his vape pen and then passes it to Buster.

"How's what work?" Buster says after managing to inhale without coughing. This is a lot easier than actually smoking, he thinks.

"This...you know, these things. Your parties."

Tim had been waiting when Buster--exhausted, drunk, all fucked out and feeling a little hollow--got back to his room. Turns out he'd been in the stands for every single Team USA WBC game since the first one in Miami without anyone, including Buster, even knowing he was there. Still emotional and wound up even after the party, when he'd seen Tim, Buster had actually sniffled a little before insisting on showering.

Now, they're sprawled on the bed, Buster's head on Tim's lap while they pass Tim's pen back and forth. Buster doesn't really need the weed; relaxing and then sleeping will be easy now Tim's here. But it's nice and anyway, even after everything, Buster's still a little wired. 

"Um...." Buster looks up at Tim, but Tim's tilted his head back to exhale and all Buster can see is the underside of his chin. "It's an orgy? People get drunk and fuck?"

"I know _that_."

"Then why'd you ask? You've been to a few of them." He remembers his first afterparty--in Atlanta after they won the NLDS in 2010--and how Tim sat in a corner smoking with Romo and Pablo. And then, when Buster looked up after blowing Cody Ross, Tim had been gone. They'd been new then and Buster had still been trying to understand who Tim really was. 

After another hit, he has to admit that he still doesn't always understand who Tim really is. The difference between then and now is that he doesn't always need to.

"I mean...what do you do?"

This time, Buster reaches up and tugs on a strand of Tim's hair until Tim looks down at him. "First, some of us took turns with Christian," he says, sounding a lot steadier than he really feels. "Yelich, I mean. Me and Stroman and Jones and Hos and Lucroy." 

That should be enough, he thinks, holding up his hand for the pen. After that first party, Tim made a point of not being around until a party mellowed out. If he hadn't, Buster would have asked him to stay away. It had been weird, knowing Tim was watching as the guys passed Buster around.

"Five guys? Like, were you all fucking him?" Tim giggles a little nervously and Buster nods. "Wouldn't that...um, hurt?"

"Yeah, but it's...some guys like it. The hurt. And I think he 'n Stanton have some kinda kinky thing going." He remembers Stanton watching almost indulgently, his hand on the back of Yelich's neck.

"Do you?"

Buster stalls by taking another hit. "Have a kinky thing going with Giancarlo Stanton?" he asks, still stalling.

"No, jackass." Tim grabs the pen out of Buster's hand. He takes a drag and exhales right at Buster, before asking, "Do you like getting fucked by a buncha dudes?"

Seven years, Buster thinks. Eight, really, if you count the almost instantaneous friendship that sparked between them during Spring Training in 2009. "Eight years, then," he says aloud. Shit, maybe the weed after all that Jack isn't such a good idea. "You've never asked me."

About what I do. About what I like. About who, specifically, I do it with. About why.

"Do you mind? We could maybe talk about something else." Tim's voice is soft, a little slurred.

Huh, maybe the weed and Jack wasn't such a bad idea. "Two guys is pretty much my limit," Buster finds himself saying. "'Specially if I'm catching or getting on a plane next day. But I don't much these days. Get fucked."

"Tradition," Tim says.

"Not so much with our guys. Not anymore."

"Since you?"

Buster hears the "took over" Tim doesn't say. That much--Buster becoming the leader Tim never wanted to be--they have talked about and they're good there. Buster doesn't try to think about how it doesn't really matter anymore.

"I guess. I just don't see why a new guy _has_ to bottom if he doesn't like to."

"That night," Tim says after a pause long enough to make Buster wonder if the conversation was over. "In Atlanta...." He gestures aimlessly until Buster reaches out and grabs his hand. 

"I liked it," Buster says. He rests Tim's hand on his chest, over his heart, and then puts his own hand over it, trapping Tim's hand. "I prefer topping...." Tim snorts, but doesn't try to pull his hand away or interrupt otherwise. "I know, big surprise there. But sometimes it's nice to lie back and let someone else do stuff." 

Tim doesn't answer and Buster takes a quick hit off the pen. He should stop; this shit's pretty concentrated and he's already drunk and now feeling a little dizzy and anyway, this is a weird conversation. 

"I never been with anyone. Like that," Tim says. "And, um thank you...for, you know, never asking."

"I haven't wanted...okay no. I have but I've been too nervous to."

"I used baseball and golf as an excuse in high school," Tim says and Buster has to concentrate to hear him. "And there was this guy in college and I liked him and thought maybe, because I liked him, we should...."

After a moment's silence Buster presses down on Tim's hand. "You don't have to tell me." 

"I know that, but I wanna." Tim sighs. "It wasn't actually some big awful deal or anything. It just...the whole thing felt weird and I must have done something or said something, because he just stopped. Asked me if it was okay and I said not really."

Buster thinks of himself at that age. "Musta been hard," he says. "Saying that, admitting it."

Tim catches his breath and Buster can see his Adam's apple move as he swallows hard. "No one," Tim says after a moment. "No one's ever understood that before."

Finally letting go of Tim's hand, Buster sits up. "C'mon," he says, once he's sitting against the headboard. "Your turn." He pats his thigh.

"He's the one who gave me the right words," Tim says, once he's settled. Buster tosses the pen aside and slides his fingers through Tim's hair, scratching his scalp lightly. "Mmmm, yeah...so anyway, after that, I did some reading and it was like...." He trails off and looks up at Buster. "I mean who learns about asexuality in school? I had no idea what was wrong with me."

"There's...."

"Shut up," Tim says and to Buster's surprise, he sounds a genuinely annoyed. "You don't have to say that every time. I know there's really nothing wrong with me."

"And yet," Buster says, still stroking Tim's hair. "The minute I say something's wrong with _me_...there you are." Before Tim can say anything, Buster adds, "but I'm sorry."

"Yeah me too. Didn't mean to snap when...I'm...you're...we're having this conversation. Also when you're petting me."

Well, if they're having this conversation.... 

"Have you ever wanted to?" Buster asks. 

"Not for me," Tim says almost instantly. He looks up at Buster. "And you knew somehow, didn't you? When I offered...."

"It's happened before," Buster says with a shrug. "Not ace people, but other people, yeah."

"Why? I mean, you've never ever pushed me. I can't see you being...I dunno, insistent or pushy or something." He giggles. "I mean in bed."

"Fuck you," Buster says, tugging gently on Tim's hair. "People," he continues a little more seriously, "find out how much I like...okay, fine, how much I need sex and they feel...fucking obligated or like they're not cool so something if they don't, ya know?"

Tim takes a very deep breath. "Kristen?" he says. Another subject they don't talk much about.

What they hell do we talk about? Buster wonders. Baseball, mutual friends, video games...guy stuff. 

"Only once," he says. "It was an even harder conversation."

"If this is easy...."

"I didn't say it was easy," Buster says with a laugh. "Worth having, maybe."

"Overdue?"

"Rambling?"

Tim grins up at him. "Dude, I'm lucky you haven't fallen asleep on me. Rambling's okay."

"You get stoned and fall asleep after the best game of your rookie year just once and no one ever lets you forget it." 

"It was a good game," Tim says. "I pitched."

"Yeah," Buster says. "I was there."

Tim doubles over giggling. "I don't know why...."

"'Cause you're stoned, idiot." 

He looks down at Tim, who keeps giggling for a little while. Maybe they don't talk about important stuff and maybe they don't fuck and maybe they don't even live together all the time, and yet, none of it matters. I'm so in love with him.

While Buster's been staring at him, Tim's been calming down. He looks back at Buster and whatever he sees on Buster's face causes his eyes to go wide and his mouth to open just a little.

"It's just...you're so beautiful," Buster says.

Tim's expression changes, but before Buster can protest that that's not what he means, Tim says, "Buster, what do you want from me?"

"Live with me," Buster says like he'd been rehearsing it for years. Maybe he has. "Like, you know, full time. Maybe forever?"

"Oh," Tim says softly. "I kinda meant right now, but...."

"Right now I want to stare at you when you're all relaxed and smiling, not because I wanna fuck you, but because I love you."

"I...look, I have to ask you this right now. Do you wanna fuck me? Like ever?" He shakes his head. "No, not...I mean, I love you no matter what, you know that, right? I wasn't trying to qualify it. Just...before I answer the other question."

Somehow, Buster manages to follow all that. Honesty, he thinks. He takes a deep breath. "Sometimes. Not when I'm with you like this or any other time I'm around you. Occasionally after or just randomly. I've worked really hard...not to feel bad about it."

"I'm sorry for asking. I just, I dunno, sometimes I wonder if you think about me when...." Tim's face is bright red and he reaches for the pen again. 

"You really want the answer?"

"Yeah," Tim says and he sounds like he means it. 

"Sometimes when I'm jacking off. Never when I'm with anyone else."

"Okay," Tim says. "I don't need to know more...." He reaches up and rests a hand on Buster's face. "It's okay, you know. I figured." Then, quickly, he says, "it was weird at first, but after eight years not so much, you know?"

"Yeah," Buster says. 

"But what I was gonna say, is--I know it's how you communicate...well, no, more like how you connect with people. It's this part of your life. A big part."

"Yeah well, the irony hasn't...." Buster can't remember the rest of it for a moment. "Escaped me."

"Me too." Tim sighs. "I wanna say yes. To living together."

"But? I mean other than we really shouldn't be making decisions right now."

"I've been thinking just how about how we're talking about stuff...."

"That we don't talk about," Buster says. "Yeah, me too." He suddenly feels it in the pit of his stomach and he knows....

"We don't talk about Kristin." Buster has enough time to feel relief before Tim goes on. "And Bum."

"We talk about Bum," Buster says and wow, this is what someone harshing your buzz is like? 'Cause it sucks.

"Yeah, back when I really felt inadequate and thought you were gonna leave me anyway so why not push you at him."

"Oh," Buster says. "I'm not...Tim, I won't ever. Not for anyone."

"I know," Tim says. "But...."

"Yeah. We have to talk about Kristin," he says. "But do we really have to talk about Bum?"

"How were you not fucking him before?" Tim bursts out.

"You been holding that back for a long time?"

"Yeah."

"'Cause it freaked me out. Maybe if I hadn't wanted him to fuck me so much instead of the other way around, but I don't know. Like that would make me really gay instead of...I dunno, a dude who just parties with other dudes. Stupid, I know. Denial's shitty. And even then..it was like...it was too much. Too emotional."

"Do you love him?" Another question Tim's obviously been holding back.

"No. I mean not like this, like you 'n me. And it hurts me so much...."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because he wants me to," Buster says and there it is, his fucking throat's closing up. "If I could just...if we could just fuck, if that was enough for him, I'd say 'sorry I was a dick before, you wanna?' But I can't, we can't, 'cause I know he wants more and it's really weird how he's still a really good friend in spite of it and, look...I just know it hurts him, okay?" He blinks and looks away.

"C'mon," Tim says. "Shift again."

While they're moving, Buster grabs a tissue and blows his nose. Once he can breathe again and his head's back on Tim's lap, Tim says, "here" and hands him the pen.

"Okay," Tim says. "I'm going to tell you something about yourself. Two somethings. You do love him, it's just not the kinda love with the sex and the retiring together or whatever. But, and this is number two, you're not responsible for how he feels and it's not your fault you can't be what he wants."

"You're making way too much sense for someone with a buzz on," Buster says. Tim's right, of course, but Buster's not sure he really gets where Buster's coming from.

"Bum is," Buster begins. "Madison is the other side of my coin," he says and then pauses as something seems to fall into place. "He's my battery mate, but not casual, not like everyone says about all batteries. But it's that first for me, that's how he fits in my brain. Wow, I compartmentalize a lot."

"You think?" Tim smiles down at Buster. "Is this gonna make any sense in the morning?"

"I dunno. I'm not the one who thought he was being, what'd you say that one time? You were all 'hella profound and shit', the night before and you wrote it down and it said...

"....the room is cold," they say in unison.

"And you say I don't let things go," Tim says.

"The room is cold," Buster says again, like he's imparting great wisdom. 

"I think I get it," Tim says after blowing more vapor at Buster. "The compartmentalizing, not your lame ass joke."

"Jerk. But if you do get it, that's more than me."

"Bum's your battery mate and that means something. And Kristin is your BFF and the mother of your children and that means something. And I'm whatever I am and that means something. And, I mean, provided I liked sex...but if I did and if Bum and I were both willing to sleep with you on those terms, you'd feel better about us, but you'd still make that separation like you do with Kristen."

"No, sex wouldn't make me feel better about you. Everyone else is important, but not as important. There's no separation with you.."

"But you know what I mean."

"Yeah, but you're wrong because you are all those things you said, you'll always my battery mate, different than Bum, maybe more complicated. And you more my BFF than Kristen is and...well, as for the kid thing...let's not go there when we're this high, okay?"

"It's not," Tim says and then takes a deep breath. "Not a deal breaker but, really, you're right--not while we're high."

The idea that Tim might want the kids to in his life at least a little has Buster blinking again, but he doesn't say anything. 

"If you're with me, though, like really living with me," Tim says. "Does that mean...what, you get a divorce?"

"Yeah," Buster says. "It's not like we haven't talked about it before." He shakes his head. "Even aside from the sex thing, it's...I'm hard to live with."

"I'm not," Tim says in a breezy voice. "So it's not a problem."

Buster snorts, a loud sound that turns into a kind of choking laugh. He keeps laughing, unable to stop until he rolls over on his side.

"It wasn't that funny." But Tim's grinning widely when Buster looks up at him and just like that, Buster stops laughing. 

"You know when I realized I first loved you?"

Tim stares down at him. "Huh?"

"I saw some stupid cartoon of you looking like you look now--with that big smile they always make fun of, I mean. And I got mad 'cause I already liked seeing you smile, especially at me." Tim's still staring at him. "What? Just because I wanna make you happy...."

Tim leans over and presses a couple of fingers to Buster's mouth for a second. "Yes," he says.

"What?"

"Yes, I want to move in, like really move in and not just stay with you. I mean we have to talk when we're not, like, all fucked up, but...just yes."

"Dammit," Buster says, swallowing hard. "I keep crying."

Tim grabs a tissue and hands it over. "Yeah, well you're kinda crossfaded right now, you fucking sap."

"Yeah, that too," Buster says. He wipes his eyes and then rolls back in Tim's direction. "But you looooove me."

Tim reaches down and rests his hand on Buster's face. They've kissed, but this always feels a hundred times more intimate.

"Yeah," Tim says. "I do. I really do."

They still need to talk about details, and Kristen, and yes, Bum, and even how this will affect Tim's career path, but that hollow feeling Buster gets after parties is long gone, and so is the anxiety about the future. Right now, all Buster wants to do is to be the crossfaded sap Tim says he is and think about how much he loves Tim. He wants to relax and take in the moment. He wants to put his head on Tim's thigh again and just be near him.

So he does.

_-end-_

**Author's Note:**

> The whole bit with "the room is cold" is totally a thing that happened to...a friend of mine in high school, and it remains my gold standard phrase for that particular situation. Also it's about time to get back to the orgies and I'm working on that.


End file.
